


caligo

by selenitebones



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Nightmares, it's really more like a self-insert, jack is. my comfort character, read the notes pLS, the character is not castiel, vent fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-01
Updated: 2019-10-01
Packaged: 2020-11-08 15:22:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,116
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20837738
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/selenitebones/pseuds/selenitebones
Summary: Nightmares seem to be a common theme in the Men of Letters Bunker, circa 2019.





	caligo

**Author's Note:**

> Heyyyy,, Cassia is me. This is essentially a self-insert/vent fic. I was sad ok. Have fun

A knock sounded on the door. Cassia sighed, having almost drifted off to sleep, but then threw off the covers weighing her down. She fought with her weighted blanket as it tried to crush her, then swung her legs over the side of the bed and rose to unlock the door.

Behind the heavy metal structure, a blonde boy- Jack Kline, nephilim, son of Lucifer and hunter-in-training -stood, fidgeting with his hands. "Hi," he said nervously, avoiding eye contact. Cassia took a step back and looked at him; really looked.

Jack was jittery. He stood, hunched slightly, wringing his hands with every breath. His eyes nervously darted from corner to corner of the room; were they rimmed with red? 

They didn't exactly keep weed in the bunker.

"Hey," she responded to his greeting, shifting her weight on her feet towards the door. "You okay?"

Jack opened his mouth to say something, but stammered over getting a single syllable out. Eventually, he shook his head. "I want some company," he whispered, sounding more like a plea than anything. He shuffled his feet; kept avoiding her eyes.

"Of course," Cassia opened the door fully to invite him in. He seemed to float over the ground, light as a ghost, but let himself become solid again, heavy again, when he slumped down on the corner of Cassia's bed.

She closed the door, the loud _clank_ of metal on metal startling her and making her jump. She locked it and went to go sit down on the bed, next to Jack. He shifted a bit - both inwards towards her legs and away from her all at once. 

"What's wrong?" Cassia asked, voice gentle. She wondered if playing with his hair would be an appropriate thing to do. 

Jack sniffed noisily, and Cassia grimaced. She reached over to her nightstand to grab a tissue, and Jack blew his nose in it thankfully. He tossed it in the trash can, and flopped down on his back. 

The two sat in silence for a while. Cassia laid back on the bed as well, staring up at the ceiling. She could practically feel her body vibrating - the urge to reach out, to _touch_, to _comfort_, to care for someone who didn't know how to ask for help almost too great to bare. Emotion pulled at her heart, heaviness settling into her lungs. _Please let me help_, she begged through a twitch of her fingers. _Please let me in_. All around them, the silence thundered on. 

Shaking; a soft noise; a plea; a cry; and Cassia looked over to follow the movement of Jack's hands covering his face, nails grasping into his skin. Though she couldn't see well in the low light, she didn't need her eyes to tell that he was crying.

"Jack, Jack, it's okay," she stammered, rolling onto her side and pressing up against his side ever-so-slightly. She pried his hands from his face, wiping away a speck of blood from an indent where his nail had pressed too hard into his skin. Jack's eyes were shut tightly, but that didn't stop tears soaked with despair from escaping. She grasped his hands tightly, running her thumbs over his knuckles. "It's okay," she soothed helplessly. "You're going to be okay."

She waited the flood out, smoothed the tears that dribbled from the corners of his eyes. His skin, so soft, so warm. His tears, so miserable, so damned. It filled up within her; a bubbling, insistent feeling that she wasn't sure was the urge to protect or the urge to destroy. 

As much as Cassia hated to admit it, she cared so, so, deeply for this boy.

Eventually, he calmed. Jack's sobs turned from quiet to non-existent, and then he just shook. Cassia gripped his hands close to her face, holding them up to her forehead. They were facing each other now, laying on their sides on the bed. Cassia's arm began aching from being pinned underneath her (yet she wouldn't move if she was offered the world).

They lay, breathing the hurt and misery, inhaling and exhaling atoms that made up tears, neurons, neurotransmitters - and all that brain stuff Cassia didn't understand. They lay, just barely daring to let each other touch, just barely daring to move. Tears still clung to Jack's lashes, dewy moisture calm on his skin compared to the storm just minutes earlier. Something in the air was delicate; but even the most dainty of ornaments would be broken eventually.

"They're not dreams," Jack whispered, so, so gentle, as if anything more than a breath of utterance would rip the two apart. 

Cassia gripped his hands tighter - cupped them close - ran her thumbs over his knuckles once more. _I'm listening_, the gesture said. _I'm here for you_. 

Jack turned his hands to grip hers back. "They're scary," he breathed. "Scary and horrible. I wake up and I..." He swallows despair, leaving it to fester in his stomach again. "I don't know what to do with myself."` He shudders - she wipes away a few more tears - and Cassia musters up the courage to kiss his knuckles ever-so-lightly; no more contact than a wisp of a feather. Her action caused her to have to wipe his eyes again.

"How long will I have to live with them?" Jack's voice breaks, and he's crying again. "I don't want to live with them."

Dread tugged at Cassia's... everything. She reached up and smoothed his hair down, a pathetic attempt to be calming.

"It could get better," she whispered. "They could go away. You could stop remembering them."

Jack couldn't say a word. Cassia gulped.

"I get them too," she admitted, eyes downcast. "I can't ever remember them. But I always know I've had them - I wake up and there's dried tears and crust on my face." She doesn't mention how she almost wishes she could remember; how she dreads looking in the mirror in the morning; how the ones she does remember are the least horrifying things her mind could come up with. "It doesn't get easier," she confessed. "But if it's any consolation, you will get used to it."

Jack grips her hand tightly, shaky breath warming their fingers. "I don't want to get used to it," he despaired. "I don't know if I can do it."

"You've lasted this long," Cassia tried. "You're strong. And... if you need it, I'm here for you." _Anything you need; ask and you shall receive._

Jack doesn't respond with more than a subtle squeeze of his fingers, a hiss of breath, and a pressing of foreheads together. Cassia doesn't make any indication she noticed other than a small press of her lips on his hairline.


End file.
